


To Extremes

by TalesOfOnyxBats



Category: Winx Club
Genre: Cannibalism, Character Death, Death, Gen, Hypothermia, Mild Gore, Starvation, Wendigo, Wendigo Icy, Whump, Winter, cryptid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:33:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29683323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalesOfOnyxBats/pseuds/TalesOfOnyxBats
Summary: I was watching some of those horror narrations/cryptid stories and I got to thinking about wendigos and how they dwell in the cold and are born from extreme hunger and/or greed. I thought that this would work well with Icy who is a cretin of the cold and has this power hunger.
Kudos: 1





	To Extremes

**Author's Note:**

> I was watching some of those horror narrations/cryptid stories and I got to thinking about wendigos and how they dwell in the cold and are born from extreme hunger and/or greed. I thought that this would work well with Icy who is a cretin of the cold and has this power hunger.

The moon glows silver overhead. It is freezing, beyond freezing. A cold at a depth which Icy found particularly admirable. The rest of them are dead, they couldn’t withstand the cold like she. There are only two aside from herself. Three if Lucy is to be counted, Icy doesn’t count her. The girl is one frigid gust of wind away from death. A simple breath of winter, sliding down from the mountain will do her in. 

It is just as well.

It will make things easier. 

Darcy and Stormy huddle against one another. They beg her to take the cold from them. She can do no such thing, she can only deliver more of it. She is well aware that she will be the last one standing and that it won’t be blue lips, blacked limbs, and stiff frosty fingers that do her in. It will be the hunger. 

Nothing is alive out here; no fruits to harvest nor leaves to eat. The animals have the common sense to hide away in their burrows and dens. They are the fools to have come out this way. And for it they will suffer to the last breath.

She will likely suffer the longest. Hunger, she knows, is slow. Is sanity stealing. Her stomach aches already, only slight pangs every now and again, but it is absolutely maddening knowing that it will grow worse and that there is only one thing that she can do about it. 

She looks over at Lucy.

She holds off for a few more days. 

A few more days where the hunger gnaws at her. Where it becomes an almost physical entity. It consumes all of her thoughts. She wishes that she could go as numb as thoughtless as Darcy and Stormy. The two of them cling to each other, desperate for the body heat that has left both of them. 

She should realize just how far gone she truly is. She doesn’t hesitate long enough before choosing to peel the coat off of Lucy. Before slipping the mittens right off of her hands. The woman is still alive. She is too weak to protest even vocally. But her eyes, she pleads with her eyes. 

Icy wanders up to her sisters and blundles them up tighter. She takes Lucy’s scar next. And then her hat. And then her sweater. She gives these to Darcy and Stormy as well. And to herself, she gives something else…

She waits. 

She hates waiting but she does. She has to, she can’t do it any other way. She tells herself that she can’t. Another two days slip by and the aches in her belly are completely unbearable. If the crash hadn’t weakened her so terribly, she might have been able to make it down the mountain. She is certain that she would have been able. More than able, really. She is in her element. If she weren’t so terribly hungry, if her ribs and knee hadn’t shattered in the fall…

If her magic wasn’t tainted by the resort realm’s magic blockers…

But her powers are limited, she is broken in several places, and she is weak with hunger. She is nearly as useless as the rest of them. And they are all going to die here. 

They don’t have to. 

She can make her way down the mountain. 

She just needs a boost of energy…

She promises herself that it will only be a taste. A small taste and that is it. Just enough to get her energy back. She promises herself that when she takes the first bite. When she tears into the meat on Lucy’s calf. It is sickening and relieving to taste it on her tongue. Her blood is cold as it runs down the corners of Icy’s mouth. 

She is horrified to say that it doesn’t taste appalling. Horrified to say that it tastes quite well. She promises herself that, that is it. But the hunger, it still claws at her. It claws at her insatiably. She promises herself that she is doing this to save Darcy and Stormy. That Lucy was a goner anyhow. She promises herself that she will stop when she is full. 

By the time she swipes her arm across her bloody mouth Lucy is far past dazed, her leg is openly bleeding in several places. And she is still alive. God, she is still alive. Icy’s head hurts, she clutches it. Grips it so tightly that her nails draw blood at her hairline. 

Blood. 

There is so much blood.

It stands out so starkly against the white of the snow. The white of her hair. The near white of her flesh. 

She must look absolutely ghastly. 

The moon rises again. 

It sets and the sun takes its place. 

She hasn’t yet begun her decent.

Because it is still there. 

The hunger is still there. 

It is worse. It is so dreadfully worse. Irresistibly worse. Before she is aware of her own motions, she finds herself drawing near Lucy again. The woman whimpers. She knows what she is in for. Icy will kill her this time. She will make it quick. An icicle across the neck and then she will finish what she started. Maybe she will save some for Darcy and Stormy. Surely they are famished too…

Yes, that is what she will do. 

That is what she intended to do.

That is what she forgot to do. 

She forgets a great many things as she gnaws on Lucy’s arm. She loses more than her memory. Or maybe she has lost this other thing before she had lost her memory. It might be that her memories vacate with this other thing. 

This other thing is replaced by an unignorable compulsion. She has hollowed a part of herself. She isn’t sure which, but it doesn’t remain hollow. The hunger seeps right in to fill its place with a much deeper hollowness. She has a final moment of clarity, one single and fleeting instant. A moment where her mind, what is left of it screams for her to resist. 

But she has never been able to resist. 

Not her lust for power. 

Certainly not her craving for this…

She eats Lucy’s arm to the bone. Up to the shoulder. Up to the neck…

And then she doesn’t remember. She doesn’t remember why she had consumed this woman. She doesn’t remember the woman’s name. She doesn’t remember Darcy and Stormy. 

She doesn’t remember Icy. 

But she remembers the hunger. 

She can’t forget the hunger. 


End file.
